Homecoming
by findmyownliberation
Summary: ( Prompt: Could you write a BlackSun story with this prompt? "She was ice cold to the touch, and yet he could feel the burning inferno underneath her fingertips, like an approaching storm." ) After she ran, Sun's been searching for Blake, but reuniting has... not exactly gone as well as he'd hoped.
A grunt of pain escaped Sun as Blake heaved him through the door, into what looked like the back room of what could only be a book store—aside from the ample shelving, there were poorly organized stacks of books on absolutely every surface, as well as papers and sales records strewn among them. Even the chairs around the room were occupied with books.

Of _course;_ Blake _would_ find a place stuffed full of books to hide herself away in. Though... he wondered who owned the place, and why they would let her waltz through, bloodied up with her friends. Or who kept their shop so cold; it was barely warmer than the outside, his only relief the sudden lack of biting wind and falling snow.

Sun's appraisal of their surroundings was cut short as Blake used her free arm to somewhat unceremoniously shove aside some books on a desk near the door and none too gently deposited him on the cleared space left behind.

"Whoa, hey," he said, voice strained even as he tried to keep his tone light. "C'mon, 'mnot _dyin'_ , Blake. You don't need to rough up the literature for me." Still, he was eager enough to be sitting and off his feet—whatever he'd done to his ankle during the brawl they'd just escaped, it wasn't exactly any better now that he'd limped all the way here on it, even with her help.

"Shut up." The words were out of her mouth almost before he'd finished speaking, so fast he wasn't even sure she knew she was saying them. Still—his jaw snapped shut, the reassuring spark in his eyes snuffed out just like that, and he _tried,_ dust he tried his _best_ not to look like some wounded puppy, but he knew a look of hurt had flashed across his face, if only for a moment. She wouldn't meet his eye, but he knew she'd caught it, because she pressed her lips together and took a step back from him.

He couldn't help reaching for her with the arm that wasn't wrapped around the gash in his side. "Blake—"

"Don't." His heart ached as she shook her head, her expression hardening, and she barely met his eyes for a moment before she turned away from him, from his outstretched hand. "Just… don't— _say_ anything. Stay put." And then she was walking away from him, to the opposite corner of the room.

Attempting to pull himself together, Sun stifled a sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. As far as reunions went, this one was… not great. He'd thought… he'd hoped that at the very least he'd be worth a warmer reception than this. But dust, just _seeing_ her again was enough to set his heart pounding and his thoughts racing through everything they'd ever been through, and even just a glimpse would have been enough to bring it all back.

To bring back what he'd always felt—that this girl, she was some sort of star brought down to his level, some kind of dream made real, flawed and wrathful and compassionate and _perfect,_ and he just wanted her to _like_ him, in whatever way she could offer.

Right now, he wasn't getting much. He leaned back to watch as she knelt beside a bookshelf and began to tug out all the books on the bottom row, craning his neck to watch her pull out a first aid kit that had been tucked against the back of the shelf. His eyebrows lifting, he blinked at her as she stood.

"You keep first aid stashes in... random bookshops?" he asked, eyes scanning her face. She still wouldn't look at him, and it left the worst sinking feeling in his chest.

"I didn't stash it there. I found it there."

He furrowed his brow, trying to piece together what he was missing. "So you... make a habit of digging around in bookshops for hidden supplies?" Borderline frigid bookshops that feel like the heating has been off for a week, granted. "Does whoever own this place mind that you make use of their secret stuff?"

"Sun, I told you to just... not say anything, okay?" Her voice was sharp and she leveled him with a serious look, finally meeting his eyes. He sighed, reaching to pull his shirt off; his aura had held out pretty well until just at the end of their brawl, and his injury list was pretty good for a couple hungry, out of decent practice faunus kids taking on just over a dozen White Fang grunts. Just a minor scratch on his face, a couple gashes on his side and his leg, and his twisted ankle.

"Blake, you're not... you're not mad at me, are you? I've been looking for you for weeks, it was..." Another sigh escaped him, and he ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the messy blond locks a little. "I just was—really worried about you, 'msorry I didn't find you until I had a handful of those creeps on my tail."

A slow sigh escaped her as she dropped the first aid kit on the desk beside him, her movements slow but her hands steady as she popped it open and started pulling out supplies. He couldn't help preemptively pulling a face when she pulled out the disinfectant that he knew was going to sting. Finally, as she screwed the lid off of the bottle and dabbed the liquid onto a disposable cloth from the kit, she answered him.

"You should have gone back to Mistral and stayed there."

Right for the jugular. He actually winced, and she tensed, but a moment later she was stepping impossibly close to him, dabbing at the scratch on his jaw with a tenderness that betrayed everything about the harsh way she'd treated him up until now.

Sun had to measure his breath and look elsewhere just to keep from getting abruptly dizzy from the intoxicating feeling of having her so close again, and having her treat him with so much care. His brow furrowing again, he made to shake his head, then thought better of disrupting her movements.

"I did go back," he replied with a small shrug, and he was trying, trying not focus on the feeling of her fingers brushing against his skin as she made short work of cleaning the cut, but the only other thing to focus on was the significantly less pleasant sting of the disinfectant. "Me an' the rest of my team. But... you were here, and everything that went down here... it was _bad,_ Blake, and I didn't know how much worse it would get, or if you'd get hurt."

A displeased huff escaped her as she dropped the cloth from his face, shooting him a baleful look. "Why couldn't—I—I left for a _reason._ " Still steady-handed, she gently tugged his hand away from the gash in his side, apparently done with his face. The cloth wasn't even very bloody; his face had been the least of his problems. "I... _ran,_ like a _coward,_ like I _always do,_ for a _reason._ Couldn't you trust me to know... know at least _why_ I'm doing it and just—respect that and go _home?_ "

Sun couldn't help it, any of it—for every bit that her harsh words and looks towards him had hurt, for every dismissive look and way she found to shut him out that caused his chest to ache, none of it compared to hearing her talk poorly of herself. Blake was, hands-down, the most amazing girl he'd ever met, and her entire friend group was composed of some of the most amazing people he'd ever met.

And she'd been through so, so much; he didn't ever want to hear her put herself down for any shortcomings she'd _earned_ through that.

He didn't think as he lifted a hand to gently brush her hair back from her face—she started to shy away, but before he could pull back his hand, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, she leaned into the touch and let her eyelids fall just slightly. Almost like she couldn't help it, either. "You're not a coward, Blake," he murmured, and damn, he _meant_ it.

She started to shake her head, but he pushed on. "In the entire time I've known you, even known you running, known you scared, known you piling all your fears on top of yourself until you can't even.. _think_. I've never known you do be a coward. You get that? The stuff you've been through... you're, like, crazy brave. I mean it. And—" he paused, grimacing slightly as her hands, finally starting to shake, pressed a little too hard against the wound she was almost done cleaning in his side, and when he spoke again, he dropped his voice. "And you _are_ my home."

She inhaled, something like a sharp gasp, and pulled away slightly, looking up at him with furrowed brows. "Sun—"

"I mean it, Blake."

She shook her head again, more vehemently, and her motions were stiff when she pulled away to dig around in the kit again. She seemed less focused, her movements almost angry. "Sun, don't you—don't you get it? I'm not... I'm no good for a home."

"Blake—"

"No. No, I'm serious, I'm not, a home is... a home is someplace you can always go back to. Some place you're _safe,_ some place where people always want you and make you feel good and loved and—" Her hands stilled as they wrapped around the bandages and medical tape she'd found, like she was so focused, so _determined_ to make him _see_ that she couldn't move and talk at the same time. "—and a home is something I've never had, and it's where you can be _happy_ and actually relax and—and _damn it,_ Sun, home is not a person who—who pushes you away when you don't deserve it. Home is not harsh and cold and afraid to let you in. Home doesn't _run away_ from you and—and make trouble for you."

He reached for her again, his fingers gingerly wrapping around her arm as he pulled her gently closer again. She didn't seem to have it in her to resist, but still she shook her head fervently.

"Sun—"

"Hey," he breathed, shushing her softly as he shook his own head. "Hey, Blake, I don't want to hear any of that, okay? When you run, you run because that's what you need to do. And it scares me, sometimes, thinking I won't see you, but it's _okay._ It's _you._ And you... you're pretty damn great. And you have every right to be private. _Every_ right. You've been through a lot, and I can wait for you to open up and let me in when you're ready. You need time, and that's _you,_ and you're _great_. And you don't make trouble for me. Those White Fang, jerks—they're not your fault. They—hey."

He paused, because she'd started shaking, her eyes watering and it made his heart heavy as he pulled her closer again, and she leaned into him, dropping her head into the crook of his neck and just... staying there, as he lifted a hand to run over her hair.

"Those things... they suck sometimes, I know you don't want me to lie about that. But _I_ suck sometimes, too, and they're not as bad as you think. They don't—disqualify you from being a home, you get that? There's... there's no one who makes me feel like you do, Blake. I can't sit still for like, five minutes, but I could sit with you and pretend to read, or sketch dumb stuff that'll never be as good as you can do, or just... just _sit there,_ for five _hours_. When I'm not with you, I'm thinking about you. You're crazy—you make me crazy. All I know is, I wanna be around you all the time and when you're not there I feel like there's something missing and there's nothing, _nothing_ I hate more than not knowing if you're okay or safe or happy. If I could spend... the next _years_ of my life just figuring out how to make you smile, I would, I'd make that choice in a heartbeat. And you, you calm me down, and you make me happy, and I feel better than I have in my life when I make you happy, and there's nowhere I want to be but with you. As a friend, as... as anything. That's home to me. You _are_ home. I mean it."

She tensed, slowly, shaking her head again, and again, and again. Like she could shake off his words, or how firmly he _believed_ them—but it wasn't working for either of them. Eventually, she lifted her head, just to press her forehead against his, her eyes closed. She wasn't crying anymore, but it looked like she was still fighting it with all her strength, still collecting herself so she could respond without losing control.

Dust, she was so close, all Sun wanted to do was lean forward and kiss her. But—if she _ever_ wanted him to kiss her—he didn't want their first kiss to be like this, with him battered and her crying and the world still going to hell right outside their door.

"Sun..." She caught a breath then, before forcing another, deeper breath down to calm herself, her brow furrowing. "Sun, you still—don't—you still don't get it." Her words, while slightly strangled at first, slowly gained strength and intensity as she forced them out.

" _Everyone_ I've ever cared about, everyone who I've ever let in, let care about me... all of them... do you know where they _are?_ " Her eyes flickered open, and Sun sucked in a breath at how bright, how intense her gaze was.

"One of them's trying to _kill me_. For running. He's on a personal mission to destroy _everything_ I love. Most of them, so many, too many—they're _dead_. And Yang—" Her voice grew strained once more, halfway to a sob. "Yang lost an _arm_ because she was with _me,_ she came to protect _me,_ and I couldn't run, so _I_ did that to her. And you, you came after me, and the White Fang followed you because they knew you'd find me faster than they ever could, and when you did, look what they—they _did this_ to you, for wanting to find me and keep me safe."

Her hands hand moved to his shoulders, as if to ground herself, and the biting winter air had clearly done her no more favors than it had done him. She was ice cold to the touch, and yet he could feel the burning inferno underneath her fingertips, like an approaching storm.

Blake Belladonna was about to do something crazy stupid, he knew it.

The fire in her eyes, the tenseness in her muscles, the building storm just underneath her pale skin—this was the look of a girl about to hunt down everyone who'd hurt him tonight. And while she was in a much better state than he was, he couldn't exactly think of that as a good idea, nor did he want her running off for revenge for him when he was in no fit state to watch her back.

Lifting a hand so he could gently catch her chin in his fingers, Sun pulled back a little, giving her an earnest stare. "I'm here, Blake, and I'm okay. This is nothing. And you don't have some—curse followin' you, pushing away everyone who loves you. Your team, Ruby, Weiss, last I heard they were okay. Jaune, Nora, Ren, they're all okay. My team is all okay. Yang... she's, like, the most kickass person I know, she'll bounce back. Not everyone who cares about you is doomed, I promise. I know it's scary—but things are okay, or they're trying to be. And they're _gonna_ be, someday."

Smiling a little, he tilted his head at her, offering his most reassuring look. "So you don't need to go doing anything crazy because I was too dumb to shake a tail. Besides, you still gotta finish patching me up, yeah?"

If nothing else had, that certainly got her attention, and she blinked, looking down once more at the gash on his side—much less intimidating, now that it was clean, but still in need of bandaging. Letting out a slow breath, she pulled back as well.

"Sorry."

"Nah, don't be," he smiled at her again, and she looked at him like some sort of mystery, something she'd never fully understand, before turning back to the first aid kit to grab the bandages that she'd dropped when he'd pulled her closer.

"I shouldn't have gotten distracted," she insisted, tearing off a section of the bandage just long enough to fit over his wound.

Smirking a little, he leaned forward as she laid the bandage over the gash and began using the medical tape to secure it in place. "Y'mean, shouldn't have let _me_ distract you." And he sounded just self-satisfied enough to make her roll her eyes, but the corners of her lips twitched upwards just slightly.

It was enough to put butterflies in his stomach, and he grinned as she carefully finished bandaging the cut, and then wrapping the long roll of bandages around his chest once, twice, three times to help protect the bandage and hold it in place. And then, both of their attention was drawn to the elephant in the room: his last cut.

It couldn't be much worse than the one on his side, at least, it didn't feel any worse, but he couldn't really see the damage, obscured as it was on the outside of his thigh by the fabric of his jeans. And she needed to see it to help him with it, so...

Blake sighed, and she placed both her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow at him. "Well? Drop your pants, Wukong."

And he laughed, a snort escaping him as he pushed off a little from the desk, keeping his weight on his good ankle. He definitely hadn't expected that blunt of a response to the issue. "Your wish is my command. Not very _ladylike_ of you, though."

"You wanna get gangrene in your leg, be my guest, otherwise, strip." Her poker face was good, he had to admit, and he did as he was told, undoing his belt and carefully pushing his jeans down to his knees. With her looking completely unaffected like that, he almost couldn't help feeling... self-conscious?

He let out an awkward cough as he leaned back against the desk again, rubbing at the back of his neck as she returned once more to the first aid kit for another clean disposable cloth and the bottle of disinfectant. "So..." He narrowed his eyes a little at the bottle again, before glancing to Blake. "You ever gonna explain whatever kind of deal you got going on with whoever owns this place? Are you in with all the bookshop owners for being Vale's most loyal customer, or...?"

Her shoulders slumped, and it was enough to make him regret asking, even if he wanted to distract himself from how he was standing here half-naked in front of her like it was nothing.

"It's not a deal. He—I knew him, a long time ago," she explained, as she repeated the process of dabbing the disinfectant on the cloth and then stepping back to him to start cleaning the wound on his leg. He gritted his teeth at the sting, but made sure to look at her eyes, and try not to think too hard about her hands on his leg.

"Back in the White Fang. He—was sort of like a big brother, I guess, but the kind you don't see very often and you annoy to pieces with questions about what he's reading every time you see him. His name was Tukson, and he didn't like a lot of the changes the Fang was making, either, but he stayed just like I did, and after I left... I didn't hear from him. But this was his shop, and I always... thought about coming back here, to see him maybe, until..."

Her brow furrowed, and Sun felt a pit growing in his stomach at her expression. He didn't really need to hear her finish to know what was probably coming.

"A few months back, he was found dead in his shop. Murdered. I don't know why. Maybe he decided to leave after all, I don't—" She closed her eyes, pulling the cloth from Sun's leg and putting it with the other discarded one, before reaching for the bandages again.

"His stuff hasn't been touched, so he must have owned the building, and—I know he has family in Vacuo, maybe he left it to them and they haven't had time to come and figure out what to do with it. They probably want nothing to do with the place anymore, now that so much awful stuff has happened here. Until they do come... it makes a decent safe house. No heat, electricity, or water, though. No one's paying for it."

"Blake..." Sun wanted to take her hand, but they were both full with the bandage she was tearing to patch up his leg, so he settled for placing his hand on her shoulder instead. "'Msorry."

She shrugged a little, and when she looked up at him, her expression twisted like she was trying, _trying_ to give him a small smile, but it wasn't convincing in the slightest. "It's not your fault."

"Still. You've been here, alone?"

"Some nights," she replied as she secured the bandage on his leg. "I try to change up where I go, so I don't get found. This is probably the nicest place."

He mulled over his next words, rolling them around on his tongue for a few moments before he finally hazarded, "So... you think you're willing to let yourself have some company from now on? Someone to stay with you?"

She looked up at him, stepping back as she finished bandaging him up, and slowly, a somber smile crossed her face. She hesitated a moment, before leaning towards him again to press a kiss to his forehead. "I think... I'd love that, Sun."

A grin lit his face, bright and happier than he'd been in weeks, and for a few moments, all he could do was beam at her. There was nothing, nothing better than Blake letting him in, than knowing he could be by her side.

"...Hey, Blake?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I pull my pants back on now?"

A laugh burst past her lips, sparking the most triumphant feeling he'd ever experienced, and she nodded. "I think you probably should."

* * *

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